There is just one diagnostic for my mellow heartache, I think I must be lovesick. The word sounds like some cold mistake, like "alcohol poisoning" or "Lyme disease." You're love sick? You poor sucker.
Is it naïve to follow the heart (blindly)? Probably. I don't know if there is more to say, I know this one already: sometimes when your heart pulls you one way, you need to reign it in like a misbehaving puppy-eyed pet. Then teach it proper etiquette, because it should know better. It doesn't need to get so attached; it's a free thing, and it needs to be humble. In this post-graduate world where cash moves everything around hope and love and freedom, It needs to move on.
Ohhh, but I still don't want to. And why? There's that tug again. It doesn't have to make sense. No, and it doesn't need that probably painful closure either. It's over.
